


Thunderbolts and Lightning, Very Very frightening!

by Toasted_RiceCake



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Comfort, Crowley's Bentley (Good Omens), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fear, Gabriel is an asshole, Heaven & Hell, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks, Post-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens), Post-Apocalypse, Storms, apocadidn't, heaven sucks, hell & heaven, very very very small mention to.... s e x
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-11-23 05:30:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20886911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toasted_RiceCake/pseuds/Toasted_RiceCake
Summary: (Galileo!)Heaven’s terribleness is shown via storm and aziraphale really deserves better. Crowley, thankfully, is there to pick up the pieces.(Edited summary)





	Thunderbolts and Lightning, Very Very frightening!

After the whole apocadidn't/apocaget-em-next-time/abotchalypse/whatever you wanna call it, things went relatively back to normal. Crowley went back to the fierce judgment routine of his plants, doing mild acts of evil out of habit instead of hellbound requirement and taking the now-not-on-fire Bently on rides while blasting Queen. Aziraphale went back to his restored library, driving off customers with glares and miracles, settling down in the back to read one of the new children stories Adam put on the bookshelves. People strolled through the streets of a rainy London like it hadn't been on the brink of destruction not too long ago.

Aziraphale and Crowley would saunter and amble respectively through St. James Park, feeding the ducks. They'd talk and argue about the centuries they spent together, new restaurants opening up, talking about everything and nothing as they tossed crumbs to the ducks. Their relationship had grown without the boundaries of their jobs, and they'd finally confessed their love for each other. Maybe not with words, but with the way that Crowley looked at Aziraphale, eyes shining with adoration. Or the way that Aziraphale intertwined his hands with Crowleys, squeezing to let him know he was there.

Or the way they made out in the Bentley that one time.

Anyway, Aziraphale was dusting the bookshelves, humming contently. He was going to meet Crowley at this new Japanese restaurant he'd been dying (or discorporating in his case) to try later this afternoon. He turned to face the bookshelves behind him and frowned slightly when he caught the window out of the corner of his eye. It was raining in torrential amounts; the beginnings of a great storm. It reminded Aziraphale of the flood it was so heavy. He shrugged and raised his hand to keep dusting. I might have to take a raincheck on the lunch, he mused, then giggled to himself. Raincheck! How ironic!

The pip-pap-pap of rain against the window panes calmed Aziraphale, luring his mind into a sense of safety as he cleaned and reshelved his treasured books. His mind wandered and his head lulled to the side in the rain's pattering music. And then-

BRRROOOOOMMMM!!!

Aziraphale flinched violently, his downy dove-white wings popping out of reflex. His head snapped to the window to see the arching bolt of lightning streak across the sky. The books clattered to the floor from the angel's shaky hands as he backed away from the glass pane-

BOOOOOOOOM!

The thunder was deep and rolled through the bookshop, shaking Aziraphale to his core. He pressed his hands to his ears as the world began to blur before his eyes, and he was only vaguely aware of falling and scrambling to the far corner of the room before another burst of thunder chased his rational thoughts away. His breaths sped up their tempo, the inability to get a full breath suffocating him, even though he did not need the air. And he whimpered quietly as the thunder continued its relentless assault on his taut nerves.

See, even though they hated Earth, heaven still sent angels down to check on him now and then, Gabriel being most common of course. They would come down in a heavenly streak of light, thunder rolling as they landed. Sometimes they would reprimand him for doing too many miracles, or for rumors of fraternizing with the enemy. Occasionally it would get a little physical, but Aziraphale was a principality, he could handle it! He was the guardian of the Eastern gate for heaven's sake!

Though that didn't mean every stroke of lightning across the sky didn't scare him stiff. That every boom of thunder didn't make his throat close up and his breaths grow shallow.

And now it was worse, because what if heaven had found out about the switch? What if they were coming back for him and Crowley and they would be punished for good this time? What if they got their revenge? What if? What if?

The lightning burst across the storm clouds, and Aziraphale trembled.

~

"Late." Crowley grumbled to himself, sulking under an umbrella next to the restaurant they were supposed to be going to, "Of all days, angel?"

According to the clock Crowley kept looking at every other five seconds, Azirphale should have come 10 minutes ago. And it was very unusual for him to be late to anything, especially a lunch dat-meeting with the demon, Crowley mentally corrected himself. And the angel had sounded so excited about this one too, talking and laughing adorably as he had on the phone this morning.

Crowley decided enough was enough. Pushing himself off the railing he was leaning against, he trudged his way through the downpour and to the doorway of the bookshop. It was closed, like usual, but a small demonic miracle swang the doors wide open.

At first glance, the demon could tell something was off. The bookshop was quiet and gloomy instead of peacefully and homely. The lights were off so the only illumination came from the cloud-filtered light outside, so most of the shop was in shadows. Crowley walked along the carpeted floor cautiously, the quiet deafening to his ears. Thunder rumbled outside ominously.

And then Crowley heard it. A small, heartbreaking whimper just after the thunder's roar had died down. "Angel!?"

Hundreds of scenes flashed in Crowley's head as he dashed towards the sound. Gabriel smuggling looking down at him when he was pretending to be Aziraphale, the leaping flames of a fire fed by book pages. You know, sometimes he really hated his overactive imagination.

Crowley finally rounded a bookshelf, where he found a scene that made him feel freezing cold inside with dread. Aziraphale was in the corner, shielding himself with his fluffy unkept white wings, not moving except for a violent trembling in his wings. Crowley could hear his shallow, speedy breaths. He could feel the unadulterated fear and anxiety radiating from the feathered mass, something any other demon than Crowley would have relished, especially from an angel.

The thunder's roar made both of them jump, Aziraphale curling more in on himself as Crowley was startled from his stupor. The demon ran forward, sliding down on his knees and whipping off his glasses, his hands hovering uselessly over Aziraphale's wings as he babbled.

"Angel? Angel! Aziraphale?! Azira-Aziraphale can you hear me? Hey, Azira-wha-what happened Angel? What happened to you? Please tell me. I'll help you! I'll fix it! Just tell me what's wrong, okay? Zira? Zira...pleassse, what's wrong?"

Aziraphale remained unresponsive as Crowley stumbled over his words, his usual suave devil-may-care attitude shattered at seeing his angel in such a state. he hesitantly placed a trembling hand on his wings, pulling back when the wing flinched under his hand. A heartwrenching whine escaped the feathery dome that was Aziraphale at the moment, smashing Crowley's little pinning demon heart into tiny sharp pieces that cut into his slowly twisting stomach.

Crowley wrung his hands in a very un-Crowley-like way, "Angel..." he pleaded, sitting down on the floor beside and thinking. He slowly lifted a hand again, hovering it mere inches away from the angel's feathers. "Okay, it's okay angel..." he tried, hoping the angel heard him, "Take your time, okay? Take a few deep breaths, in and out. Nothing is gonna happen to you while I'm here, okay? You're safe. You're sssafe."

Crowley waited as the angel finally calmed down enough to talk, "C...Crowley?" he asked, hesitantly, his wings drooping a little.

That's it, Crowley smiled gently and very un-demonically. "Hey, angel. Welcome back,"

Crowley slowly lowered his hand to Aziraphale's wings, pulling them back slightly. Aziraphale had tear tracks on his face, his arms wrapped around his legs, his clear blue eyes staring intensely at Crowley.

BOOOOOM!!

Crowley's golden eyes went wide as he was tackled by a pair of arms, his lap suddenly full of angel. Aziraphale trembled, his hands fisting in Crowley's leather jacket, his wings quaking as they folded tightly. Crowley brought his arms slowly around him, holding the angel as they waited out the storm.

"Shh shhhh. Deep breaths Aziraphale, deep breaths, in and out, see?" Crowley said, taking an exaggerated breath in for emphasis. Aziraphale took in a halting deep breath, letting it out shakily. Crowley kissed the top of his head, rubbing the angel's back soothingly. And they stayed like that for a while, intertwined in one another, just breathing.

"I think the storm's gone now, Angel," Crowley said after a while. Aziraphale nodded into his shoulder, his breathing finally even.

Aziraphale lifts his head, tucking away his wings from this dimension. He pauses, casting his eyes downward. "My dear, I'm sorry you had to see me like that. Rather unbecoming of me, isn't it?" he said, with a small sniffle.

"What're you talking about?" Crowley sputtered, "I love- well obviously I don't want you to suffer like just did. But I'd love to help you through the-those...things. I like comforting you."

"Really?" Aziraphale asked, eyes glowing and how the hel-heav-somewhere does he look so adorable.

"Yep," Crowley said, popping the p. Then a question that had been nagging the back of his head came to the forefront of his mind. "If you don't mind me asking, what set you off like that?"

"Erm," Aziraphale hesitated, turning a bit pink. He pulled at his shirt collar, "Well...It's a bit embarrassing really."

"Hmm?"

"Well," the angel fumbled, wringing his hands, "It's just...the thunder. It reminded me of-of the angels coming down to check on me. An-and I thought they'd...well, that they'd found out about our switch."

"Huh." Crowley stated, looking around, "Well, I don't know about you, but I can't sense any angels coming down for a little bit of holier-than-thou vengeance, so I think we're still safe."

The angel laughed lightly, "Yes, I suppose we are." he looked down, the smile slipping from his face, "But still, I worry..."

"Me too," Crowley admitted. He then held out his hand to Aziraphale, "But we'll face them together, right?"

Aziraphale took his hand, "Yes." he agreed, "After all, we are on our own side now."

Crowley pulled himself and his angel off the floor and looked out at the now-sunny sky, then at Aziraphale, "Well, are we still on for lunch?"

"Of course."


End file.
